


Easy

by Livinginfictions



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Derek Hale is Good at Feelings, Don’t copy to another site, Fluff, Getting Together, I don't know what other tags to add, I've never done a one shot before, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Morning Sex, One Shot, Stiles Stilinski is Good at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 22:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19049695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livinginfictions/pseuds/Livinginfictions
Summary: A late night visit is nothing unusual, but something is different about this one.





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. I wasn't planning on posting any more sterek for a while until I finished one of my many many many many WIPs, but then I woke up at 4:30 in the morning and needed to write this. Desperately, apparently. So this was done in about 2 1/2 hours, between 4:45 and 7:15 in the morning. Plus another full hour and a half for the last three pages the next day. I don't know if I'm meant to be proud of that, or use it as an excuse for why this might be riddled with mistakes.  
> Just kidding, my beautiful Beta [PerseShow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerseShow) doublechecked it for me, so it should be AO3 worthy now.  
> Anywho, enjoy!

The creak of his bedroom window wasn’t enough to wake Stiles up completely, though it should have been by now. His eyelids fluttered slowly, taking in a familiar outline in front of the curtains before falling shut again.

He’d hoped that buying his own apartment, with no visible way up the outside of his bedroom wall, would prevent these window visits. That Derek would at least learn to use the front door. He tried to vocalize these thoughts, but wasn’t sure if anything more than, “...windows...” came out of where his mouth was mashed into the pillow.

Derek stepped forward, revealing himself in the blue glow of Stiles’ computer charger. He was painfully underdressed for the winter weather, or really, for any weather at all, in no more than sleep pants and a t-shirt. Stiles didn’t bother to check if he was wearing shoes.

“Wass wrong? You hurt?” he slurred, willing his arms to do more than just twitch on the sheets. “What happened?”

He’d barely lifted his head when Derek’s big hand pushed it back down to the pillow. “Nothing's wrong. Can I sleep here tonight?”

It was a request he got surprisingly often, just not from Derek, but Stiles was too tired to question it. It wasn’t like he’d say no even if he were properly conscious. With a tiny wave of his hand, he said, “Yeah, just—blankets in the closet. The pull-out sticks unless you pull on both ends at once.” His new guest spiel was cut short when Derek slipped his shirt over his head and made motions to toe off shoes that he _was_ apparently wearing, before pulling back Stiles’ comforter and climbing in next to him. “Or _that_.” He gasped a little at the puff of cold air that slipped into his warm space.

Just awake enough to be mobile, but not to be smart, Stiles reached out and smoothed his hands over Derek’s bare side and up his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked again. Always the heater, Derek’s skin was warm and smooth, without any telltale puckers or ridges of still-healing wounds. Still, Stiles checked as much of it as he could reach. Safety, after all.

And Derek didn’t stop him. He stayed rolled onto his side facing Stiles, letting him touch and confirm that he was okay. Then, he reached out and clasped one hand to Stiles’ hip. “I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

But the soft brush of his nose against Stiles’ own sent sparks through Stiles’ face, leaving a pleasant but confusing buzz of static at the back of his neck. Stiles fought down a shiver and shifted his grip so that he was holding Derek’s jaw. Trying a little harder to open his eyes all the way, he stared at the soft but distinct edges of Derek’s jaw, nose, and brows. No wolfy features, no pain. Just Derek staring back at him. “Are you—”

Derek quieted him with a careful kiss to Stiles’ forehead, then one to the tip of his nose, then, the most tentative of all, his lips. “I’m _fine_ , Stiles. Go to sleep.”

With that, he squeezed Stiles’ hip lightly, then tucked his face downward against Stiles’ arm and went still.

Stiles watched his long smooth breaths for a minute, then sighed, “Okay.”

It was incredibly easy to fall back asleep with Derek’s hand anchoring him, with the fluff of Derek’s hair tickling the underside of his arm. Derek was safe, so what did the rest matter?

—

Waking up in the morning was harder. Much harder. First off was how difficult it was just to convince his eyes to open up and acknowledge the sunlight coming through his curtains, then was dealing with his inappropriate boner. The one he was grinding into the small of Derek’s back, because who knew, but Derek liked to be the little spoon.

Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up so hard, but he was pretty sure it was whenever he’d last shared a bed overnight with a romantic partner. Which, honestly, meant a couple years. Monster fighting wasn’t a good way to pick up dates that lasted long enough for morning wood.

Not daring to breathe, Stiles unlatched his arm from where it crossed Derek’s chest and rolled away to the other edge of the bed. One glance at the clock told him he had plenty of time to shower and fix his issue, but another glance back at his bed proved that any kind of self-care in this department was off-limits until Derek left.

He ignored the way his heart tightened at Derek’s curled up form under Stiles’ cheap brown and blue patterned comforter and headed straight for the bathroom.

Five minutes later, after giving himself a stern but silent talking to in the mirror and brushing his teeth, Stiles slunk back into his room and, despite his better judgement, climbed back under the covers. It was early, and he didn’t normally leave bed right after waking up anyway. It had nothing to do with how enticingly hot Derek had made the bed compared to the icy chill of the room, or the slow curve of his arms as they outright cuddled the extra pillow.

The fantasy of domesticity was too tantalizing for Stiles to resist, but at least he kept some distance between himself and Derek as he settled back into the mattress.

At least until Derek muttered, “I could have taken care of that for you.”

His sleep-rough voice was enough to undo a good half of the work Stiles’d done to get himself under control, and the actual content of his words went toward undoing the rest.

“What?” Stiles cracked out.

“Still can,” Derek continued. He rolled over slowly, goddamn luxuriously, like Stiles’ bed was memory foam and covered in seven hundred thread count Egyptian cotton. Slightly predatorily.

Having those hazel eyes on him first thing in the morning wasn’t good for Stiles’ health, but he kept looking back at them because the alternative was to peruse the miles of bare skin that he’d spent most of the night wrapped around without fully appreciating. “Not sure what you mean,” he bluffed. It fell a little short of believable, especially since he was sure his face was on fire.

He should get up, he should really just separate himself from the situation before something—

Derek’s lips were outrageously soft. The kind that Stiles would normally assume got lathered in chapstick to keep them that way, had he not known about the werewolf part of things. He tasted like sleep, but after a few swipes of his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, it changed to Stiles’ own toothpaste. Stiles’d never considered himself a possessive lover—friend, yes, lover, no—but it sent a thrill down his spine to have Derek tasting like something of _his_ , especially the way Derek had sought it out, licking into Stiles and sucking softly on his tongue with a hum until Stiles moaned.

Stiles could barely bring himself to lean away, let alone stop Derek from taking advantage of the accidentally offered thin skin of his neck. “You’re not possessed, right? Cus’ that would s— _uck_.” As if reading his mind, Derek had nibbled then sucked on skin just under Stiles’ jaw and it was _glorious_.

Rather than actually answering the question, Derek pulled away slowly and blinked at him. “Thanks for the book.”

Oh.

There was a lot more being said than just what four words should’ve been able to convey. Things that Stiles didn’t have the nerve to say out loud yet. But here was Derek, saying them without using any of the more dangerous, more vulnerable words that neither of them were ready for.

Following his lead, Stiles chanced a smile. “You said it used to be your favorite.”

Then they were kissing again, without holding back. Not bothering to contain himself, Stiles ended up sprawled half over Derek’s chest, nibbling at his stubble and groaning at the warm slide of Derek’s hands up his shirt.

“Tell you what,” Derek purred, nuzzling into Stiles’ neck. It should’ve tickled or been sweet, but instead it set his nerves on fire. “I’ll take care of you, if you take care of me.”

The insistent press of their matching erections made the intended meaning of the line obvious, but Stiles was well practiced in Derek’s tendency for double meanings. Of course Derek would be someone who took an innuendo and turned it into something romantic. Something that made Stiles’ heart jump.

“Deal.”

Stiles was never so grateful for taking the time to find that battered little copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_ in a used bookstore. A copy with original artwork. The kind of copy Derek would’ve had before the fire.

Finally free to properly enjoy Derek’s bare upper half, Stiles nuzzled his way down, pressing kisses and nips to every single spot he could remember watching bleed or bruise, however shortly. He relished in the heavy press of Derek’s hand on the back of his head and neck and the soft, encouraging moans that went along with each touch.

Stiles didn’t have many fantasies of Derek. Their relationship had always been based on mutual protection and, as often as they jabbed at each other, respect. Derek was one of the few people in the world that made Stiles feel absolutely safe, and he’d refused to jeopardize that even subconsciously by objectifying Derek the same way so many other people had.

Still, there were thoughts he couldn’t bite back quick enough. Soft, innocent thoughts that made him groan less from pleasure and more from knowing that if he was daydreaming about running his fingers through Derek’s hair in reassurance on a bad day or watching a movie pressed up against his side, Stiles was in way deeper than he wanted to be.

He swooped back up to kiss Derek again and to get enough leverage to pull on the band of Derek’s pants. “Off, please,” he muttered against Derek’s lips.

Derek complied with the same easy grace he’d carried for as long as Stiles had known him. Stiles used to think it was a werewolf thing, but no other wolves carried quite the same air of power and self-awareness. “I didn’t know you had manners,” Derek mused.

Chuckling, Stiles smacked a kiss on Derek’s cheekbone. “Excuse you, I’m extremely polite and attentive in bed, I’ll have you know.”

The blankets fell backward when Derek kicked the last vestiges of his pants and underwear off his feet, sending a blast of cold air over Stiles’ body. It was better for him, at least, because he was still wearing clothing. The skin on Derek’s arms and legs pebbled under Stiles’ hand and the hair growing there.

“Prove it.”

“Okay.” Stiles tugged on Derek’s hips to make him slide over to the center of the bed and climbed between his knees, pulling the blanket back up to his shoulders so that when he crouched down, Derek was still mostly covered. A stiff breeze was the most annoying way to lose interest.

Stiles rubbed his palms over the goosebumps on Derek’s thighs until they smoothed down again and took the short time to analyze the view. Naked or not, Derek was just so...Derek. Everything from the delicate foreskin over the head of his cock, to the dark wiry hair growing around his crotch was entirely unsurprising. Even how goddamn soft and tempting his hips were was exactly what Stiles would’ve come up with if he’d ever bothered to imagine Derek naked. Stiles had known for years that Derek was a squishy marshmallow on the inside, so why wouldn’t his body be just as deceiving as his personality?

One thing Derek had never bothered to lie about was how impatient he was. Within moments he was clutching at Stiles’ wrist and whining shortly and fussily, tipping his head back like he thought not looking at Stiles would get him to move. Maybe he was right, because just seeing Derek’s stubbled jaw and neck stretch out sent a bolt of heat through Stiles and he leaned down to sate his need by mouthing at the base of Derek’s dick.

It felt _good_ to be able to do something for Derek. Stiles had a knack for strategizing and research, but when it came to action sequences he was kind of useless. Complex hand to hand or big roaring showdowns? A little beyond Stiles’ abilities. But this? Licking wet stripes up Derek’s cock and pulling back his foreskin to mouth at his head until he growled? This, Stiles could not only do, but felt uniquely qualified for. After all, he was still the only member of the pack who could tell a difference between Derek’s annoyed growling and his proud rumbles.

Long term exposure and enjoyment of Derek’s natural but predatory way of communicating came in remarkably “handy” when Stiles gave his mouth a break and pumped his hand slowly and tightly up and down Derek’s length until he propped his feet up and thrust his hips. Long groans faded away into tightly wound sighs after a couple minutes, and Stiles let Derek nudge his head down until his lips met Derek’s crown.

The thick musky scent of him, combined with whimpers that were somehow elegant and pornographic at the same time, was a little overwhelming. Stiles moaned himself as he slid Derek’s cock into his mouth, letting the tip rub at the roof of his mouth and then settle near the back of his throat. Any further and he’d choke, but Derek’s self-control still hadn’t cracked, so Stiles set to breaking it by wrapping his tongue around everything in his mouth and dipping up, then down. Up, and down.

Above him Derek was chanting now, “Stiles, Stiles, _Stiles, Stiles_.” Gasping in breaths and shuddering with tension.

It was a triumph when Stiles had to pull off and switch to mouthing and tonguing at the edges of Derek’s foreskin because his hips were thrusting again, erratic little grinds that Stiles caught firmly with his hand. Seeing it would’ve blown Stiles’ top, so he kept his eyes squeezed shut as he worked. Next time, he promised himself.

Even without his eyesight there was still a lot of sensory input to take in. The sheer _heat_ of Derek’s cock in his mouth, pulsing every few seconds and always seeming to get even harder when Stiles rubbed just the right spot with his thumb. The level of eroticism reaching Stiles’ ears was fucking unheard of, and with a fumbling free hand, Stiles reached into his boxers and held the base of his own leaking erection uncomfortably tight to give himself a little more time before he lost it completely.

Enough time, for example, to hear Derek’s huffs break off into perfect silence as his body bowed and his grip on Stiles’ neck spasmed until his fingers were twisted up into Stiles’ hair. Desperate whimpers soon accompanied infinitesimal thrusts as Derek came into Stiles’ mouth. The taste left a tickle in the back of Stiles’ throat that would only be solved by a glass of water, but Stiles couldn’t care less.

When Derek finally relaxed, it was the kind of perfect relaxation Stiles had only ever daydreamed of for him. Absolutely boneless on the pillows, breathing heavily and smiling so happily Stiles fought back a grin of his own as he sucked softly on Derek’s oversensitized dick until he was clean and twitching away from Stiles' mouth.

It was cold when Derek dragged Stiles up to his side and out from the burning hot little den he’d created, but well worth it when Stiles own goosebumps were smothered out of existence by Derek rolling on top of him. At the same time, he shoved the elastic of Stiles’ boxers down under his ass and gripped his aching cock.

Stiles had been leaking for an embarrassing amount of time, but Derek took it in stride, sweeping the moisture around until Stiles’ dick was well slicked, then directing his length into that exact dip of his hip that Stiles had been staring at before. He was sure he would go off in seconds, too wound up from everything else to keep his cool. And yet the slight tingle Derek’s stubble left behind on his neck and the peppering of kisses not just over his shoulders, but on the ridge of Stiles’ brow, forehead, and cheekbones was just distracting enough to keep him from the edge, if only for a little while.

Soon Stiles had to bury his face in Derek’s shoulder, lips pressed hard to the muscle there as he panted through his nose between moans. He dragged his fingers down Derek’s back, careful to use only his finger pads instead of his nails, and to keep his teeth well tucked away.

The last thing he wanted was to give Derek any more marks he would have to heal from.

Derek seemed to know that Stiles’ feelings went exactly the opposite way when it came to his own body, and agreed, going by the rough but short crescent moons pressed into his hips. Stiles bruised so damn easily, it would be nice to have a couple he actually _enjoyed_ getting.

With every smooth thrust into Derek’s hip, the rubber band in Stiles that’d been pulled tight for what felt like ages stretched further and further, until Stiles was wild and hovering on the edge. He clutched his arms up over Derek’s shoulders, pulling him down into a bone-crushing hug as the band snapped and he cried out into Derek’s skin. Static zapped through every inch of his body, from the tips of his fingers down to his toes, leaving Stiles shaky and exhausted.

“I think that’s the longest I’ve ever heard you go without talking. I kind of missed it.” Derek was still propped over him, stuck to him now and not appearing to give a single fuck about it.

His kisses hadn’t stopped, just softened and slowed enough that Stiles could catch his lips as they passed by in a lazy nip. “Oh, fuck you, Sourwolf.”

“Next time,” Derek promised, hunkering down and completely ignoring the mess in favor of crushing Stiles just slightly with his body.

Stiles shuddered in response and shifted his foot out of its awkward angle to keep it from cramping or going numb. Their activities had made it almost _too_ hot in the bed. Almost.

Just as Stiles was losing consciousness, he heard the softest mumble in his ear. “Thanks for leaving the window unlocked.”

“Always will.” Though, now, he kind of hoped Derek would only need it for dramatic exits, not entrances.

In the end, it was just so easy to be with Derek, there was no reason not to.

**Author's Note:**

> Would you believe me if I told you that I originally planned to post this without writing in the smut? But noo, my Beta insisted I finish it off...properly. Honestly, I think we're both a little too willing to add smut to pretty much everything these days. Then the sex turned out to take up Half of the story. I'm not even surprised.
> 
> Hey, so if you've enjoyed this and wanna see more sterek content, I do have a sterek-specific [tumblr](https://asterekmess.tumblr.com/) that you should feel free to come visit. If you're really gung-ho about me, I also have a general [tumblr](https://livinginfictions.tumblr.com/) that carries all my other random crap.  
> Please feel free to peruse my other works, and if you happen to subscribe to me, I post Sterek as often as I can finish the fics in between being a semi-functioning human being. So you'll get a nice little e-mail the next time I post something!


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